


Sit Down (It's just to talk)

by puffabilly



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Darcy Lewis Smut Week, F/M, First attempt at smut, National Catastrophe, Natural Disasters, Ocean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-15 23:33:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puffabilly/pseuds/puffabilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little late but written for the fuckyeahdarcylewis smut challenge.  Prompt: Ocean</p><p>After a major loss, Darcy is sent by the remaining Avengers to find Clint and bring him home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sit Down (It's just to talk)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first (and probably only) time I've tried writing smut. And it's ended up with a lot more exposition than porn. But it's finished and it's posted. It's about sex and connecting after death and destruction. I am an angst-whore, after all.
> 
> ETA: I also managed to misplace the town of Tallum in my story. So it's now the 'other' Tallum in Mexico. On the West Coast. Totally legit, right?

She found him sitting on the beach in Mexico.   Tucked away in clusters of rocks where the Pacific Ocean crashed in nearby waves beneath the night sky.  The air was still warm and beads of sweat made her flimsy dress cling to her skin and her backpack slip off her shoulders. Climbing barefoot over the rocks to reach the remote beach hadn’t been easy.  But then again, just getting into Mexico hadn’t been easy.  The world was tense at the moment.  Losing a major city would do that to the global consciousness. 

Darcy had been driving across town to pick up some groceries when the radio newsreader announced that San Diego was gone.  Just like that.  No real warning.  The attack had started at the naval base and spread inland and while The Avengers had stopped the creatures intent on invading the continental US, they’d been too late to save the city.  And even if the news didn’t report it, Darcy knew achieving just that had cost the Avengers greatly.

She’s met them all through Thor over the last few years.  Darcy considered each of them a friend, to some degree or another.  She would pop into their lives if she was passing through town or just tag-teaming with Jane on some project. It might’ve been nice to have been more involved with The Avengers and the good work they did but her skill set didn’t bring much to the table, unfortunately.  But right then, only Thor was even close to being capable of action.  Others were in hospital or in the morgue so when Darcy had asked what she could do to help, going to talk the one AWOL Avenger into coming home seemed like an ok assignment.  Pepper had pulled some Stark Industry strings and Darcy was on a private plane into Mexico with just her passport, iPod and some bribe money. 

Cancun was the last spot SHIELD could give for Barton’s location.  So that’s where Darcy had started.  She was sure if he’d really been trying to hide, there’d have been no chance she’d have found the guy.  But the locals had been hyper alert after the loss of San Diego and Barton, particularly noticeable in his uniform, appeared to have simply been heading south.  So Darcy followed.  At most she wished she’d had more time to pack some underwear – she was down to travelling in her bikini and a light cotton dress bought from an overpriced tourist shop.  But after a week of searching, she finally tracked him down in a small town called Tulum.  Mayan ruins sat upon a cliff overlooking the ocean, the town’s big tourist drawcard.  However Barton was the only tourist who’d been seen there for the past week.  Ocean front destinations were empty across the world after sea monsters had come crawling out the waves.  So Barton was the sole person sitting on the sand at the base of the cliff.   The collection of half empty tequila bottles confirmed for Darcy the local’s reports that he’d been there for awhile.  A small fire flickered from down the beach, casting light down to the water’s edge.

“So you’re the one they sent.”  Barton didn’t even look over at Darcy as she came climbing over the last of the rocks.  His focus was on the ocean before them. 

“You were expecting someone else?” Darcy had run through this scenario in her head a million times during her search down the Mexican coast.  She knew Clint fairly well.  There had been more than a couple of general celebrations – engagement parties and the such – where they’d joked around until the early hours, her snarky humour bouncing off against his dry remarks.   He’d even saved her once.  Darcy was doing her on-call support act for Jane when the Stark building had started to shake.  And just before the windows exploded inwards, Darcy had found strong hands were pulling her down behind a table.  While glass flew everywhere, Darcy was curled into a ball with Clint’s hard, solid body shielding her. 

And maybe after that, she’d noticed him a little differently.  Maybe flirted a little more, which he reciprocated in kind.  But Darcy had firmly decided she wasn’t going to be the moon-eyed civilian chasing after the hero.  Especially when that hero seemed to be in love with another hero already.  And Darcy hadn’t even been able to be jealous of Natasha Romanov.  Black Widow had been someone that Darcy wanted to emulate, not hate.  But those were memories Darcy had to press down on firmly if she was going to be able to talk Clint into coming back to the States.

Clint had returned to silence already, not responding to Darcy’s question.  So she simply picked up one of the partly-filled tequila bottles and took a seat beside him.  Clint was still in his combat gear from the battle and now a little closer, Darcy could see past the darkness of the evening and caught the black circles beneath his eyes.  So he probably hadn’t slept much in the past week.  The smell of brine clung to him, as if he’d waded into the salt water on a regular basis.  So while he didn’t smell as bad as she’d expected, she doubted he’d actually done anything sensible like go back into the town to eat.   

Darcy unclicked the locks on her packs and drew out one of the water bottles and energy bars she’d brought.  “You need to get something other than tequila worms into your stomach.”  She cracked open the water and held it out.  Barton shook his head, still not looking at her.

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t make me have to try to force feed you.”  Falling back on snark had stopped feeling awkward a few days ago.  The loss of lives, the tragedy that had happened a week ago; it would still punch her in the gut throughout the day.  But the world was still turning, Darcy was still the same person and she was going to talk to Barton the same way she had last time they’d sat in a bar, sharing a few drinks. 

“Darcy.”  He still hadn’t looked at her.  Just at the waves breaking out in the dark blue water.  “Get your ass home.  Tell the others they’ll have to send someone with more upper body strength to make me come back.”

She took a swig of tequila before replying.  “Resources are stretched a little thin right now.  So you’re stuck with me.”

Before the tequila even had time to start burning her throat, Barton had snatched the bottle from her hand and hurled it away.  The glass smashed against a cluster of rocks, the shattering explosion spraying liquid over the sand and the noise made Darcy wince.  But Clint hadn’t even needed to turn his head to grab the bottle with pinpoint accuracy.  He still just stared at the ocean with the same calm, blank expression.

“Really?   You think some macho display of how you can smash things is going to scare me off?”  She tried to keep her voice even.  Reflect some of that trademark Hawkeye restraint back at him.  But it had been a long day in a hot, badly maintained rental car.  “You try that again and I will taser your ass and drag you back north by force.”

“I’m not going to sit here and get drunk with you Darcy.”  Clint said firmly.  But still he seemed to mostly just ignore her.  Attention fixed on the dark water stretching before them.  And Darcy got why.  She might’ve only done psych 101 as an elective, but the monsters that had destroyed San Diego had come from the same ocean.  The Pacific had been forced to engulf the city, drowning its victims without mercy before flowing back out.  It was the same water that Clint had dragged Natasha’s body out of and where he’d decided to come to wallow in his survivor’s guilt.

But you can’t fight the ocean.  Or make it suffer.  You could stare at it for days and it would never care about the havoc it had caused.  And there were people back home, people who were still alive who needed Barton’s help.  Tony and Steve had some serious injuries to heal from.  And Bruce and Natasha... their funerals were waiting for the last remaining member of the team to come back.  There clearly wasn’t time to try and talk Barton out of the mental hole he’d dug himself into.

“You know what.  Fine.”  Darcy took the last of her water and food out of the bag and threw them at him.  Literally.  He sat there immobile as the plastic bottles and wrapped snacks smacked into his shoulders before thudding to the ground.  “Sit here feeling sorry for yourself.  I’ll call back home, tell them you’re too busy to come act like the hero you’re supposed to be.”  Shoving herself up from the sand, she glared down at him, hand on hips.   Still no change.  He still didn’t even glance her way.

Alright.  Plan D.  And for a moment, Darcy’s stomach tightened.  She had one last idea on how to get him up off that beach but she didn’t like it.  A lot of people avoided the ocean now, especially as now they all knew that sharks were the least of the savage monsters that lived within its depths.  The general consensus in SHIELD was the creatures were deep sea dwellers and were unlikely to be in shallow water normally.  But still Darcy felt that twinge of fear, especially when the faint light from the moon barely broke the darkness of the waves that stretched beyond the light of Barton’s small fire. 

But she couldn’t think of a better option.  So Darcy starting stomping towards the rocks she’d entered over.  It wasn’t too far, maybe a couple of dozen yards.  But angling her walk took her closer to the water’s edge.    Darcy dumped her bag in the sand and spun on her foot.   Clint still stared ahead but she was fairly sure he had her in his peripheral vision. 

“Before I get back in that hot, rusty death trap,” Darcy raised her voice, just to make sure he heard. “I’m going for a freaking swim.”  And with a couple of steps, her feet were in the water and she almost hesitated.  But her legs kept moving, ploughing out deeper and deeper.   The ocean was cooler than the hot summer air and was almost a relief.  As long as she didn’t think about what might be swimming out there. 

The water had just reached over her hips when Darcy felt the first shove of a breaking wave.  Sprays of ocean foam splattered her face and the current tugged at her legs, forcing her to stop to find her balance again on the sandy floor beneath her toes.  Darcy felt her dress twist and swirl around her, the pale summer print invisible beneath the blackness of the ocean.   The rush of another wave broke over her chest.   The dirt and grime of her travels were washed away and sea monsters be damned - Darcy didn’t resist the urge to duck her head under the water, letting the water pull through her tangled mess of curls.

Before she had the chance to surface, two hands were grasping her by the arms and pulling.  A brief moment of panic shot through Darcy’s brain until her head broke the water and she found herself face to face with Clint. 

“Are you fucking insane?” The moonlight splayed across his features, highlighting the tick in his jaw and the narrowing of his eye. 

“Says the guy who has been in a staring match with the ocean for god knows how long.”  Clint’s fingers had curled around her upper arms and the tightness of his grip was pushing at her temper.

“Damn it Darcy.”  And then he moved to drag her back to the shore.  And Darcy’s temper snapped. 

“NO.  Damn you and fuck you.”  She dug her heels into the ocean floor and threw her weight back.  It hurt; his fingers were like steel and she was never going to break out of that grip.  But she’d yanked herself violently enough to force him to stop.  

“We’re not doing this here,” was his response, though a tension had creeped into his voice.

“We’re not doing anything,” Darcy yelled back.  “You’ve checked out Clint Barton.  Because you’re the only fucking special flower that lost someone back there.  So stay here and drink and stare at this fucking void of an ocean.  Sit and wait in case another of those creatures comes crawling out of the water so you can unload an arrow in its face and pretend that it will change what happened.  But it’s a waste of time.  You can shoot all of them that are left but everyone will still be dead.”

The same crash of waves knocked around her body as her voice broke over those last few words.  And Darcy squeezed her eyes shut to hold back the tears.  She hadn’t had time to cry for anyone.  But the ocean didn’t care. 

There was a press of flesh as she felt Clint lean his forehead against her own.  “She’s still gone, isn’t she...”  His words were barely a breath. 

“I’m so sorry...” Darcy whispered.  Clint kept nodding, as if still slowly accepting the truth.  With each nod, he face lowered, their skin rubbing together.  His stubbled jaw grazed over Darcy’s own, inching down until his chin was pressed into the curve of her shoulder.   The grip of his fingers had loosened but he still kept Darcy’s arms in place, holding her body away from his but supporting her against the current.  Darcy exhaled slowly; the arch of her cheek curved around Clint’s temple and pressed into his damp hair.  Apart from her arms, he didn’t touch her anywhere else.  He wasn’t nuzzling or moving against her in any way.  His chin just rested on her shoulder and his face was simply leant against her own.     She felt each breath as it passed from his lips, skittering over her wet cheek.

The waves crashed around them several times before Darcy raised her hand through the water to touch his elbow.  “We should...”

“Don’t,” Clint pleaded, his voice sounding pained.

“What...?” Darcy stilled, confused.

“Don’t touch me.  Please.”

Darcy’s palm was still cupped around his elbow.  Her fingertips barely brushed against the underside of his arm.  She wasn’t sure if she should let go or just hug him instead.  “Clint...”

 And then his lips were against her neck.  He captured her skin in his mouth, dragging the sharp edges of his teeth slowly up; he released her just to capture the next inch of flesh.  His mouth was rough and urgent, even as his fingers tightened again, holding Darcy away from the rest of him.    

The breath that had caught in her chest escaped from Darcy in a gasp.  She was heady and aroused and confused all at once.

 Clint stilled again.  “Darce,” he drew back to look her in the eye.  “Right now, I want so badly to just fuck you and forget for a little bit longer.  But I can’t.  Not to you.  So please.   Don’t touch me.”  The look he gave was pleading.  His eyes wide, serious; his jaw set, as tense as the hand that still curved around Darcy’s biceps.   And suddenly she understood why he was keeping her at arm’s length. 

Every reason for why he was making sense flickered through her thoughts.  Every reason fucking the guy who’d just lost the big unrequited-ish love of his life was such a bad idea.  But so too was every photo from every news report.  Every anonymous face that was no longer on this earth.  Every ruined home and life and existence that Darcy had avoided considering as she trekked through Mexico nudged at her awareness.  Every loss that made part of her feel both guilty and grateful for still being alive. 

“Clint,” Darcy said slowly, blinking against the spray of the salt water.  “I lost my friends too.  And in a few days we’ll have to bury them.  So god help me, I want to forget too...”

That was all it took.  Clint brought Darcy to him with one tug, their bodies colliding in the surf of the ocean.    He had several inches in height over Darcy and she was lifted off her feet with her arms wrapped around his neck; the water tugged at her but Clint’s hands were quick to find Darcy’s ass and yank her back against him.  Their mouths pressed together and each salt-laced kiss was urgent and hard.  With rough abandon, they found then released each other’s lips; grazing and gasping as they went.  Darcy let Clint capture her lower lip and the nip of his teeth was enough to make her hips arch, seeking release.   His blunt nails dug under the elastic of her bikini, finding the soft curves of her ass, and his arms locked around to keep Darcy in place as his own hips came up to grind against her thighs.  The hard length of Clint’s erection dug into her flesh, the rough wet fabric of his combat pant harsh on the delicate skin.   Dropping her head against his shoulder, Darcy murmured into his skin with a breathy rasp, “Don’t. Stop.”  She punctuated each word with a caress of her tongue up the tense tendon in his neck.

“God Darce...,” came Clint’s guttural response.    Darcy felt herself lifted higher, Clint taking her weight with his arms.  Breasts pressed into his chest, she felt the lurch through her body as he took a step forward.   Pressed so close together, their soaked skin rubbed and slid together with each stride Clint made out of the ocean.  The waves tugged and pulled at Darcy but Clint’s tight hold didn’t give way until they hit the shore.  Darcy’s toes barely touched down before Clint was lowering her back into the sand.  Her legs curled to wrap around him as Clint stretched the length of his body atop her.    He caught her wrists and raised them above her head, the coarse grit of the sand rough as it moulded around her arms.  The hard line of his cock finally pressed into the juncture of her thighs and Darcy arched against it.  Clint’s entire body rocked into hers in response.  She felt his fingers grip tighter on her wrists, the flex of his arms, the roll of his chest into the swell of her breasts; her dress bunched up between them and the flimsy spandex of her bikini was little barrier next to his heavy pants and the straining erection behind them.  As Clint’s hips heaved into her, the outline of his cock slid along her bikini and rubbed through it into her clit. 

“Oh fuck,” Darcy moaned and Clint buried his mouth at her throat while he continued to grind into her through their clothes.  She squirmed her wrists beneath his grasp, trying to release them; she wanted to rip off his shirt and pants, then her own clothes and finally dig her fingers into his hair and skin.  But his hands were like iron and she couldn’t gain an inch.  But he simply had to lay the full weight of a strong forearm over her wrists and Darcy’s arms remained held down.  Clint left hand however was now free and the rough tips of his finger, dusted with sand, found the underside of Darcy’s breast, then the curve of her hips.  They toyed with the edge of her bikini briefs before grazing up the soft curve of her leg that still arched up around his back.  His caress was smooth, steady and slow, like the press of his lips and tongue against Darcy’s neck.

“Still sure?”  His words weren’t hesitant.   It could’ve been a mission update by his tone.  But tension strummed through his body; Darcy felt him strain to hold back in every inch of limb and skin and muscle pressed against her.  And if he stopped, Darcy feared she’d break apart.  So she just nodded.  She didn’t trust herself to speak right then.

Clint’s hand grabbed her thigh and unhooked it from around him.  He pushed her leg back into the sand and lifted his hips away just enough to reach between then.  The hiss of a zipper was loud in the still air and then his fingers snagged Darcy’s bikini again.  With a rough tug he shoved them to the side and in one hard thrust he sunk his cock deep inside her.

“Oh my fucking...” Darcy’s cry was cut off as Clint’s desperate kiss landed on her mouth again.  His tongue flicked against her lip and his hips were already moving in hard, short thrusts.  He was everywhere on her and in her; Clint covered her outstretched body from above while he fucked her into the rough sand beneath her back.    

“Darce...”It was barely a groan of her name, but the sheer rawness sent a shiver down her spine.  The twitch of her body beneath caused Clint to shift his weight and between thrusts, he wedged his hand between them and grazed a knuckle over her clit.    A tremor ran through Darcy; she tried to arch and squirm for release but Clint still held her tight against the beach.  She broke her mouth away from his and nipped savagely at his jaw.  Clint turned his head and she had access to the length of his throat.  With each stinging bite she landed, he drew out before thrusting his cock in deep again when her mouth released him, rubbing his finger over her clit each time.  And Darcy was nipping hard and fast, chasing his flesh with her tongue.  She landed a savage bite on the soft curve of his shoulder and as Clint cock sunk all the way in, Darcy came.  Hard.  The tension exploded in shudders along her body and he continued to fuck into her clenching pussy, driving her orgasm further.  When she screamed out his name, Clint stiffened, his cock buried deep inside.  From the twitching in his groin and short catch to his breath, Darcy knew he’d come as well. 

Exhaling slowly, Clint rolled onto the sand.  Their soaked clothes tried to cling together but were slowly peeled apart.  Clint landed on his back but with a casual stretch, he kept one leg draped over Darcy’s thigh.  As if he wasn’t ready to fully break the contact just yet.  And even though her arms and chest were no longer weighed down, Darcy wasn’t able to move.  She just looked up at the blinking stars spread across the dark sky and tried to remember how to breathe.

“I’ll take the first shift.”  Eventually, Clint’s voice broke through the silence.  Darcy turned her head, blinking at him in confusion.  She met his gaze; he’d been looking at her, though his face was as unreadable as ever.  “Driving back to wherever the Stark or SHIELD plane is parked.”

“Just be careful.  It gets stuck in fourth gear.”  Darcy’s brain had shut down.  Either in some post orgasmic haze or just as a survival mechanism.  But the auto-snark response was still there.  Thankfully.

Clint got up slowly and offered a hand to help Darcy up.  When she was on her feet, sand clinging to everywhere, he leant down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.  That was the last time they touched for the entire journey home.

They stood far apart at the funeral.  Darcy trailed behind as the last of the other attendees departed, looking over her shoulder and watching as Clint stood alone besides Natasha’s grave.  It was yet to be filled and when he finally reached for the shovel, Darcy turned away.

A few days later, Darcy was ready to go.  Her bikini was in the bottom of her well worn backpack along with more clothes this time.  She only had a couple of hours to make it to the airport for the flight to Los Angeles, where she’d join the volunteer forces gathering to cleanup San Diego.  She’d said her goodbyes.  She’d promised Thor and Jane she’d be careful.  Tony and Steve promised to text her with updates on their recovery. 

Clint had been gone since the funeral.  The others knew where he’d left for this time.  Darcy didn’t ask for the details.  But she’d stopped by his apartment, his spare key stolen from Thor’s care.  Darcy didn’t stay long.    She just placed a bottle of tequila on his bed and left, shutting the door firmly behind her.


End file.
